


piecing it together

by wrennette



Category: L.A. Confidential (1997)
Genre: Blanket Permission, M/M, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27920101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: Drabble-length vignettes of Bud and Ed and a different ending.
Relationships: Bud White & Ed Exley, Ed Exley/Bud White
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	piecing it together

Bud hauled Exley to his feet, transfixed by the smear of blood at the corner of his partner's mouth. The blood Bud had brought to the surface. Around them, the office looked like a bomb had gone off. The fragments of information Exley had shouted rattled through Bud's head, catching at evidence. Exley was flushed yet pale, sweating and shaking, his high cheeks spotted with color. The lights flickered, highlighting the planes of Exley's face. Bud thumbed the cut in Exley’s lip, and Exley hissed and drew back sharply. Bud licked his thumb, thinking, and slowly, they pieced it together.

* * *

Ed panted sharply, his chest singing with pain, with adrenaline, with need. Bud was on all fours over him, his muscular bulk shielding Ed. Bud’s eyes were black pits in his flushed face, and Ed leaned up. He drew back before he could complete the motion, Bud’s heated breath rushing against his face before Ed crumpled back down again. Bud stood, and hauled Ed up with him, and they were so close together Ed could feel Bud's heartbeat thundering in his chest, their hands still clasped between them as Bud’s eyes softened slightly, then went wide and round with surprise.

* * *

Bud shifted softly, glad of the quiet. It was dark on the other side of his eyelids. Lynn had been by earlier, talking about a shop in Bisbee and how Ed had come by to let her know that Bud would be on disability, would never have to work again if he didn’t want. He hissed and flicked his eyes open, and found Ed curled in the visitor’s chair. Ed was folded up small and tight, like the night he had curled against the base of the blown to pieces wall in the Victory Motel, and Bud’s heart swelled painfully.

* * *

Bud figured he and Ed were the only ones at Vincennes’ funeral who knew what had actually happened. Bud couldn’t say, his mouth still wired closed, and Ed wouldn’t. It was probably better that way, in the end.

“He called me college boy,” Ed said in his eulogy. “And he reminded me what it meant to be a real cop.” Ed's eyes were bright and blue behind his glasses, and Bud never wavered, never looked away. Bud gave loyalty to people. Ed, to institutions. Bud knew that both men and institutions betrayed men, but Ed made him want to believe.

* * *

The door opened, and there was Bud, wearing an almost shy, lopsided smile, dark eyes waiting. There was a big grey car at the curb, and Lynn was at the wheel, but she didn’t look like she was getting out. She had on her shades, and a scarf over her platinum hair. From the tie down keeping the boot closed over her cases, she was headed out for a long spell. Ed nodded, stepping back and wordlessly inviting Bud in. That smile quirked a little wider, and Lynn was roaring away toward Arizona before Bud was entirely over the threshold.


End file.
